Corrupted (DISCONTINUED)

Chapt. 4 - Some Help

•Edited•
•Re-edited•

~2 years ago~

"So Mr. Jones, care to explain the problem?" Mr. Cruz was the only therapist I found in my area. So I guess I had no choice but to turn to him.

He wore a kind smile and had eyes that were a very interesting shade of brown. I gulped and fidgeted in my seat a bit. I played with my fingers too, trying to find the right words to match the situation.

"Now now, no need to be shy. Of course you can also take your time." He smiled. I sat across from him, with a table in the middle. I took a deep breathe and rested my hands on the table.

"Lately, I've been very stressed and worried about my work and surroundings alot more. And I've been having sleeping problems time to time. I would have sudden outbursts of rage too. I've... also been a bit forgetful. Like I'd place something somewhere and left it there for some time. Once I'd go back to get it, it just disappears. And when I do find it, it's in a completely different spot then before. It's like someone hid it from me. About the worrying thing, sometimes I'd be a bit worried about forgeting something. I have also been alot more organized and anxious about my surroundings than I usually am."

"I see. For the forgetful part, what was that object you think you forgot?" I thought for a moment, then answered, "Most of the time it would be my papers for work." He nods slowly and writes down my explanation in a notebook.

"Mr. Jones, do you perhaps hold grudges or some sort of desire."

"A desire for?"

"Anything, whether it would be for good or evil."

"Doesn't everybody hold some sort of hate?"

He chuckles slightly and looked at me, "Of course, but it's all depending. Any other problems you would like to share?" I thought of other things that has happened to me. Do I dare tell him about the voice? Would he even believe me?

"No, that's all." I smiled at him kindly, but his actions were not what I expected. His usual smile turned to a frown, and his bright and kind features turned dark. The air became uncomfortable and a bit suffocating. His eyes stared into mine, looking dead and lifeless.

"Alfred, I am a therapist for a reason. I help people overcome their struggles and try to bring them back to their right state of mind. How long have I had this job? I started at the age of 27, and I'm already 48. I've met many people, I even worked in an asylum before. You lied to both me and yourself Alfred." His gaze softens, "I don't know your whole problem, but there are people in the world out there that want to help you. Now, tell me the real situation. Surely there is more you want to tell me then that."

He looks at me with concern, while I stared back. I scanned through his eyes detecting any lies or little negative emotion about me. After my 5th attempt in trying to find something, there wasn't anything. I smiled softly at him and close my eyes. He wants to help me, how nice of him. He says there are people out in the world to help me.

Well, he still doesn't understand. He doesn't know what I've seen. He can't help people if you can't get a good grip of the whole situation. That's pretty stupid thinking about it.

"How do you expect to help me?"

"With my help, Alfred, you don't need to say such things."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"I'll help you by giving you some medications, outdoor activities, and sleeping methods. We could also talk over the problem some times and help you relax."

"That's a nice method, doc. But what about the voices?"

"Pardon?" He raises and eyebrow.

"The voices! Do you not hear them?! They yell into your ears and they won't leave you alone. While you try to sleep they always get into your head. They always make you work day and night with no sleep! They tell you all the small mistakes you've made." I clenched my fists and slam the table, leaving cracks, "You don't know anything about the pain I live with! Do you have any idea what it feels like?!"

I panted slightly, finally realised I've been standing. I stared at Mr. Cruz, who wasn't looking at me. Instead, he faced back down on his notebook, writing down something. With a serious expression, he looked back up me.

"Mr. Jones, if you could please sit down."

I flinched by his tone, but obeyed. He began to continue writing something in his notebook.

After 5 minutes, he looked back up at me.

"Checking from your explaination and comparing them to the symptoms of different mental disorders, they seem to match some of your problems."

"It's a possibility you may have OCD because of your desire to have things in order and when you feel forgetful. Your sudden outbursts may be because of a certain personality disorder, which leads to psychosis. You may even have a type of ADHD, where you have sleeping problems and tend to be distracted easily. But you never mentioned being distracted often, so ADHD doesn't seem to be that big of a problem. When you told me about these voices you seem to hear, you might be having schizophrenia as well."

It took me a while to get in all this information. But I still have one question.

"Will I ever go... insane or something?"

He hums curiously, then answered, "The possibilities are high, considering you're most likely a victim to schizophrenia. If anything more happens, its best to come in contact with me. Here are your medications." He pulls out a couple of labeled bottles and hands them to me, "I'll right down a routine you should do once in a while. Then tell you a few tips to calm down your nerves."

He starts scribbling something down in his notebook again, while I stare at the pills. They contain information, like how many times a day I should take them. It's funny, thinking about a country taking pills. Well, countries heal physical wounds quickly. But mentally is impossible without some sort of treatment.

"Alright Alfred, here's the list I'd want you to follow at least a few times a week. Now, listen to this. It's helpful advice for patients I had like you before. If you ever have strong emotions to express, or a certain memory you want to honour, I suggest you write then down. Write them down in a journal or notebook. It helps, trust me. It may not seem much, but it surely helps."

I nod at him slowly and looked at the time. It's been 2 and a half hours, which means I spent way too much time in here. I looked back at him and he noticed it as well. He nodded, signaling me it's fine to leave now.

I grabbed the pill bottles and the folded paper and shove them into my bag. I swung it over my shoulder and walked towards the door. I looked back at him and flashed a smile. "Thanks..." I muttered, leaving the room.